


On the Road to East Flubria

by Mighty_Ant



Category: Green Eggs and Ham (Cartoon), Green Eggs and Ham - Dr. Seuss
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Found Family, Guy and Michellee can/will/and must remain friends, M/M, Post-Series, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-02-06 06:21:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21432736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mighty_Ant/pseuds/Mighty_Ant
Summary: They’re 888,888,001 zilometers away, and it’s raining.
Relationships: Guy Am-I/Sam I-Am
Comments: 28
Kudos: 516





	On the Road to East Flubria

EB is running around in the other room with Sam under the guise of helping him pack, nevermind how Guy can clearly hear them pretending to be a walvark and the intrepid explorer trying to capture it, though it’s anyone’s guess who’s supposed to be who. 

Meanwhile, Guy proves himself the only responsible one between the two of them by  _ actually  _ packing. 

Everything goes into his briefcase (not the original one, which after being thrown out of a train, oat mushed, iced over, and dropped in various bodies of water was no longer safe for use, but one exactly like it because despite any words to the contrary he can be rather sentimental). He fills it with scarves and coats and ponchos and umbrellas, because he spent more of their last adventure freezing cold and soaking wet than he’d ever like to be again. He also stuffs all the bruckles they can spare in the lining, so that the continuation of their journey not hinge on whether or not there’s a traveling circus nearby that’s hiring.

“Are you sure you don’t want to pack an extra sweater?” Michellee frets as Guy struggles to close his briefcase. “They say it gets pretty chilly in East Flubria.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine with the mittens and ear mufflers and emergency blankets you gave us,” Guy says wryly as he continues to fail to secure the latch. 

Michellee rolls her eyes. “Oh for —let me,” she says, waving Guy aside. With one hop and a sharp shove, she gets the briefcase securely closed. 

Guy straightens his hat with a relieved smile and a sigh. “Thanks.”

“Now, you’re going to look out for each other out there, aren’t you?” she says, whirling around on Guy and poking him very seriously in the chest. “I don’t want to hear anything about the two of you on the run from the law or accused of grand theft chickaraffe.”

“That only happened once,” Guy chuckles, raising his hands defensively. “And Sam’s the one who did the grand thefting. Grand thievery.”

Michellee smiles, bittersweet. “I just worry. East Flubria is...well, it’s a ways away to say the least.”

“Hey, you and me both,” Guy assures her, briefly squeezing her shoulder. “World class worriers, that’s us.”

Michellee playfully swats him away. “I know you’ll keep each other safe. E.B. would never forgive you otherwise.”

Guy moves to gather his briefcase, grunting in effort as he bears the full weight of it. He considers the possibility that he’s perhaps  _ over _ prepared in his packing. 

“Guy,” Michellee says, her voice sobering. “You’ll let us know how things turn out, won’t you? If you find her. I want to be there for Sam too, I do, but…”

“But you’re not about to drag your daughter across hundreds of thousands of zilometers on what might very well be a fool’s errand,” Guy finishes for her quietly. With an ease he never possessed before Sam began the arduous process of breaking down his walls, he folds Michellee into his arms. “I understand. And so does Sam.” 

Her arms, resting lightly around his middle, squeeze lightly. “I’m a little surprised that you haven’t complained about those hundreds of thousands of zilometers,” she says innocently. She’s rewarded by Guy’s incoherent sputtering over her head. 

“I—I—well, well I wasn’t about to let him go off on his own! You know how he is, going around with his head in the clouds. He’d get himself lost before he even made it to East Flubria!”

Michellee leans back with a smile. 

“You’re a good friend, Guy.” She gives him a pointed look. “Sam is lucky to have you.”

Guy blushes under his fur, looking up at a corner of the ceiling like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “N-no, not really. I’m the lucky one.”

“Have you told him that?” Michellee asks with a sober sort of look. 

“W-w-well, not in so many words, no—”

“Yoo hoo, Travel Buddy?” Sam calls through the door. He opens it enough to stick his head into Guy’s room, already beaming. “You about ready to go? We’re burning daylight!”

Sam blinks at them and Guy belatedly remembers that he and Michellee are still hugging, albeit loosely. He watches, aggrieved, as Sam’s expression morphs into a sly smile.

“Or should I give you two lovebirds some time alone?” he says, wagging his eyebrows excessively. 

Guy rolls his eyes and he and Michellee slip out of their embrace, the latter giggling behind her hand. 

“We’re not lovebirds,” he replies dryly. 

It’s not the first time he’s had to explain to Sam that he and Michellee aren’t together, and he supposes it won’t be the last. Guy just doesn’t understand Sam’s insistence on refuting it. Since he and Michellee decided to remain friends their relationship has grown so much more comfortable, like that night in the Quiet Car before his lies and the misunderstandings heaped upon them made even the hope of an acquaintanceship impossible. 

E.B. bursts into the room, throwing the door open all the way. 

“You guys aren’t leaving yet, are you?” she asks in a rush. “Uncle Guy, I wanted to show you my new Pandog Catcher!”

“Sorry, kiddo, that’s up to your Uncle Sam,” Guy replies, over Michellee’s cry of, “New Pandog  _ what?”  _

Sam looks surprised when Guy turns to him. It’s the quiet sort of surprise that is almost never a good thing when it’s Sam’s. But in the face of E.B.’s pout and clasped, begging hands, he soon begins to smile and leaves Guy with only the memory of the uncertainty in his expression. 

“There’s always time for a Pandog Catcher!” Sam exclaims. “My mom’s been in East Flubria for thirty years, a few more minutes won’t hurt!”

  
  
  
  
  


They’re 888,888,001 zilometers from East Flubria, and it’s raining. 

It’s not like the rain on that awful night outside the cabin. Guy and Sam have learned from their mistakes (or at least Guy has) and they’ve managed to find actual shelter before the storm fully hit. They’re in a small cave at the base of Mount Swizzle, with a fire to warm them and Michellee’s organic granola bars for sustenance. Luckily, Sam brought a cup o’ green eggs and ham for each of them to eat after they take a few guilty bites out of the granola bars. 

Rain is falling hard outside, creating a thick curtain that’s even darker than the night. But safely sheltered and dry, the patter of droplets against stone and earth is a comforting beat and the smell of petrichor hangs rich in the air. 

Sam’s light colored fur is glowing in the firelight, and he’s a whirlwind of red and gold as he waxes poetic about the rain, his cup o’ green eggs and ham, and the joys of being on the open road. Guy listens with half an ear as he eats dinner, committing any important bits to memory, and keeps Sam from running halfcocked into the rain “just to experience the beauty up close,” because he’ll surely catch cold. 

He learns Sam never went camping as a kid, and since daunting expeditions to rescue a chickaraffe or find a long lost mother don’t count, Guy resolves to take him camping for real, like his family always used to do. Heck, maybe they can all go. 

Guy begins to listen in earnest when Sam starts talking about his mother. 

“Do you think I’ll be able to recognize her?” he murmurs, looking out into the darkness beyond the mouth of the cave. “I mean, I was so little when I last saw her. Or...or maybe she’ll recognize  _ me?  _ Maybe I look exactly like my great-uncle twice removed, Manuel-I-Amuel, the famed explorer and culinary chef!”

Guy chuckles. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s just an older version of you. Maybe she even has a best friend she annoys half to death, too?”

Sam laughs, and the sound sends Guy’s heart tripping. 

“Maybe!” he replies brightly. 

The rain seems to grow louder as Sam busies himself with finishing the last of his cup o’ green eggs and ham, tipping the paper cup back to get all the dregs.

Guy toys with his empty cup in the relative silence, staring into the popping fire with an increasingly heavy brow. He’s loathe to be the reason for the sunshine to go out of Sam’s smile, but it has gone unsaid for too long and the longer they travel the more difficult it will be to say. 

“Sam,” Guy begins quietly, and it both warms and burns him how Sam immediately gives him his undivided attention. “When I say this, know that I’m in no way saying we should turn back. I’ll follow you to East Flubria, West, North, and South, because you’re my friend. But...you know that the chances of your mom being there, at this farmhouse, they’re...well, they’re not good.”

Sam’s smile remains, but it shrinks, saddened and wry. “I know,” he replies, setting his cup o’ green eggs and ham aside.  _ “Believe me, _ I know. I’ve been looking for her my whole life, remember?”

Guy hunches his shoulders, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, no, of course. I just...I don’t want to see you getting hurt if it turns out we came all this way for nothing.”

_ “Guy,”  _ Sam says fondly in that insistent, ‘oh, it should be so obvious,’ tone that Guy secretly loves. “I’m on an adventure with my best friend and that’s not nothing. And if I don’t find my mom, then hey! I just keep trying.” He reaches out and his fingertips gently brush Guy’s knee, his eyes dark and molten in the firelight. “Just like you said.” 

It’s a small matter of closing the space between them. 

Sam has never had issue with invading personal space, smushing their faces together in a hug or throwing his feet his Guy’s lap or clinging to him for no reason at all beyond missing his presence. The ease Sam has with touch used to disconcert Guy, who for so long went out of his way to avoid it, just as he avoided people. And then there was Sam, who sought out people and love and touch in the hopes that someone would stay, would reciprocate, and he knocked on Guy’s carefully constructed walls until Guy let in him and all the love he has to offer. 

Now Guy falls asleep watching movies with E.B. and doesn’t mind when he wakes up with her sprawled against him. When Michellee’s anxiety gets the better of her, he’s comfortable holding her hand or offering a hug. 

Now Guy will press his hands between Sam’s shoulder blades to guide him away from danger or an annoying conversation. He’ll fix Sam’s hat when its crooked and initiate hugs when he’s feeling brave. 

Guy is a coward but with Sam, here, now, he feels braver now than he ever has before. Braver than when he faced down the Goat on the mountain, or strapped his Self-Flyer to his back on the 71rd floor of the balloonport. 

The space between them is shrinking before Guy even realizes he’s leaning in. Sam’s eyes are wide, his expression frozen, and he doesn’t seem to be breathing. Guy doesn’t think he is either. 

Their mouths are inches apart when Sam whispers, “Guy, what are you doing?”

Guy jerks away from him. Unaccountably shaken, he feels like he’s been doused in ice water. “I, um. Sorry, Sam, I should’ve—I should’ve asked. I—I don’t know what was thinking.”

He stands unsteadily, with no idea of where he plans to go. Out into the rain? At this rate the idea doesn’t sound half bad. It might even clear his head of the ridiculous notion that Sam would ever want something more than friendship. 

Sam remains sitting cross legged on the ground, watching Guy’s increasingly frantic fumbling with a lost expression. 

“What were you trying to do?” he asks. 

Guy sputters. “What was I—what do you think I was trying to do?”

“Kiss me,” Sam murmurs, looking down. 

Guy clutches the sides of his head, despairing, as he paces. He nearly knocks off his hat. “Yes. I was trying to-to kiss you. And I’m sorry, again, for  _ ruining  _ everything. I was trying—I was trying—”

“What about you and Michellee?” Sam interrupts, desperate and confused. 

“Me and Michellee?” Guy repeats, his bewilderment momentarily outweighing his panic. He stops pacing. “Sam, I’ve already told you, there’s nothing going on between me and Michellee. We’re just friends.”

“Just...friends? But I thought—”

“You’ve gotta learn to listen to me, pal,” Guy says, chuckling weakly. “We’re  _ just _ friends. I don’t go around trying to kiss Michellee.”

“Then why?” Sam says so, so quietly. He looks baffled and small on the cave floor. “Why me?”

“Why?” Guy says, feeling like a broken record. “Why—why does anyone try to-to kiss  _ anyone?” _

Sam smiles shakily. “I don’t know. Why do they?”

It sounds like the set up for a bad joke. If it were any other time, any other place, Guy would be waiting, aggrieved, for Sam to deliver the punchline. But he’s serious. Like he was in the tent. Like he was in the interrogation room. 

_ Nobody’s ever wanted me to stay the same person before. Nobody’s ever stuck around long enough.  _

“Well,” Guy says roughly. He swallows. “It’s...when you really care about another person. When you want something more than friendship. Something new.”

“You? Try something new?” Sam retorts with a strained laugh that doesn't lessen the sting of his words. “It took you weeks to try  _ green eggs and ham.” _

Guy slowly sits back down. “It wasn’t about the green eggs and ham, Sam,” he says quietly. 

Sam looks at him with wide eyes. He nearly looks afraid. “It wasn’t?” 

“Of course not,” Guy says emphatically. He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “But...it took me a long time, regardless. To—to realize how I felt. So I understand if you don’t—”

Sam leans across the space between them, covering the hand on Guy’s knee with his own. His smile is a small, tremulous shadow of its former self, but his eyes are bright. 

“Let’s try something new together,” he says. 

Guy goes still. “I...you—you feel the same way?”

Sam snorts, and he almost looks like himself again.  _ “Guy,”  _ he says in that tone Guy loves. “Of course I do.”

_ Of course I do. _ Like it’s obvious. Like it’s simple. 

“Now,” Sam begins, “wasn’t there something you wanted to ask me?”

Guy feels his face getting warm as he turns his hand over to clutch Sam’s hand in his own. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks gruffly. 

“I don’t know,” Sam replies, tapping his chin, “can you?”

“You are impossible,” Guy says, leaning forward as he does so. “You know that, right?”

Sam beams, unrepentant. “I’ve might’ve heard something along those lines, yes.”

They fill each other’s space, hands drifting up and out, smoothing over fur and holding the other close. Sam’s hands land in the fur of Guy’s chest but they just rest there, not grabbing or pushing away. Even now, like this, he is unwilling to make the first move. He is waiting to see if Guy will stick around. 

Guy goes from clasping Sam’s hand to holding his elbow. He cradles Sam’s cheek, carding his fingers through the unkempt tufts of fur. 

They are close enough for their breaths to mingle, though Sam’s breathing shudders when Guy’s palm alights on his cheek. Seconds pass and neither of them moves, though Guy’s dark-eyed gaze flickers golden and warm in the firelight. 

“Well?” Sam challenges with only a slight tremor in his voice. “Did you chicken out?”

“I’m waiting for your answer,” Guy says. 

“My….”

“Can I kiss you, Sam?” he rasps. 

Sam exhales in a rush. “Y-yeah,” he stammers. 

Guy’s hand shakes against Sam’s cheek as he draws him forward those last few inches. Their kiss, when their lips meet, is tentative and gentle, a careful press of their mouths. It’s almost gentlemanly and while Guy wants more, he’s too nervous to ask for it. 

But then Sam makes an utterly unfair, broken sound against his lips and he throws his arms around Guy’s neck, clutching the back of his head and guiding him into a kiss that makes him see stars. He finds himself with a lap full of Sam-I-Am, a hand on Sam’s hip holding him gently in place as they exchange perfect, languid kisses. 

Sam’s wandering hands knock Guy’s hat off his head, and he breaks their kiss with a laugh. 

“Hey, watch it! Hasn’t my poor stovepipe been through enough?”

“I don’t know,” Sam replies thoughtfully, “I think the dirt gives it character.”

“Ha ha,” Guy says dryly, but doesn’t make a move to pick up his hat. Rather, he gathers Sam close his arms, which Sam happily obliges by throwing his arms around Guy’s waist and tucking his head under his chin. 

The fire crackles beside them, offset by the rush of falling rain outside the cave. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and East Flubria is still 888,888,001 zilometers away. 

“Y’know,” Guy begins haltingly. He clears his throat. “Sam, no matter what we find in East Flubria, you already have a family. We’re...we’re family. And—and my parents and brothers, my nieces and nephews, they already think of you as family too.”

Sam leans back in the circle of Guy’s embrace, smiling despite the tears in his eyes. 

“Really?” he asks in a small voice. 

“Of course. At this rate, I think you talk to my parents more than I do.”

“Because when you call them, you never tell them when something’s wrong,” Sam retorts chidingly. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Guy grumbles, gathering Sam close once more. 

After a long moment, Sam mumbles into his fur, “You’re my family too, y’know?”

Guy chuckles, ducking his head to press a kiss against Sam’s forehead. “I think I remember you saying something along those lines when we were trying to sneak around a crazy’s fox’s house.”


End file.
